


The Choice

by lorb



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Character Death, Drowning, Heavy Angst, M/M, someone dies on screen in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 04:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15878556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorb/pseuds/lorb
Summary: Someone has to die. You get to choose.





	The Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a Grimmons angst prompt from Blueberryshortcake!  
> "If you're feeling it, for Grimmons angst wise how about both in seal off chambers, they can see each other but can't talk. One of the rooms is about to be flooded with poisonous gas. They can control who it's going to be, but they can't talk with each other. Bonus both are in love but haven't said it to each other yet."
> 
> I should note that I made some change but kept the soul of this prompt.

Simmons isn’t sure where he is. He knows that the air is thick and the space is tight. He reaches out to follow the wall, above him is an opening that he cautiously pushes his fingers into but he meets a grate only a few inches in. The room which is more like a box, is black. He can’t see his hands directly in front of his eyes.

“Hello?” Simmons calls out timidly. In the same moment, his eyes slam shut to block out the blinding light in front of him. Cautiously, he peeks out. “Grif!”

On the wall directly in front of his face, he’s there. Well not, _actually_ him. But a projection of him. Grif’s is lying, too still, on a floor somewhere else, but Simmons can see him. And now he’s afraid, because Grif’s chest doesn’t seem to be moving.

“Grif! Grif!” His voice arches into a higher octave. And Grif moves. “Oh thank God, Grif!”

“Simmons!” Grif rolls over and looks frantically around. He’s in a small room, too bright. Everything white and lit from an overwhelming fluorescent bulb overhead. There’s an opening like a pipe, but he can see that it’s closed off by some sort of vent. A shining lens looks down at him.

“Grif! Grif are you ok?” Simmons’ voice fills the entire room but he is nowhere to be seen.

“Simmons, where are you man?” Grif kicks out, slamming his  heels against the white wall opposite him. He pulls his foot back in as the pain sets in.

“Grif you idiot! Don’t hurt yourself!” Simmons’ frets. Grif shoots his eyes up to the glass lens above him.

“Simmons?”

 

Grif’s lips move soundlessly forming a familiar shape. He’s used to the turn of his lips saying his name. The way he mouths out _Simmons_ in bed after a long day of work, slowly and comfortably. The way he spits out _Simmons_ when he’s frustrated that he’s cleaned that spot six times already. And now the way he says _Simmons_ with knitted brows and fear haunting his eyes.

“Grif, you can hear me? Blink once if yes, blink twice if no!” Grif slaps his forehead and looks pointedly at the camera. He shakes his head with an emphatic _yes._

“Oh… right. Fair enough.” Simmons laughs uncomfortably. “Can you see me? Because I can see you, I don’t know where you are, where are you? Grif are you ok? What’s going on?”

 _“Simmons.”_ Grif’s lips move. He raises both hands and pumps them slowly. _Slow down._

“Ok, ok, yeah. Can you see me?” Grif nods no. “Are you ok?” Grif shrugs and gives a noncommittal nod of yes. “Do you know what’s going on?” Grif nods a definitive no.

 

A drip of water splatters against Grif’s forehead. He wipes it off and looks for the source. The vent within the opening drips several more droplets before a slow though steady trickle of water comes down.

“Grif!” Simmons’ voice thrashes around the room. “Grif there’s water in here! There’s water coming down into the room, Grif is there water in there too?!” Grif nods. They have to get out.

“Simmons, man! How much water? We need to get out.” He yells though he knows it won’t fix anything. He kicks again. “Simmons?! Look at me!” He stares into the lens, hoping with all hope that Simmons can see him. “We… need… to… get… out.”

“I know! But, how? Grif there’s no way, we can’t, Grif I’m not, we can’t, Grif!” Grif hears the sobs in his voice.

“Great, all you need is more water.” The water is quickly over his own feet and rising at an alarming speed.

“Grif!” Simmons screech shatters in his head.

  


The screen goes blank. Everything is black. Water falls on his head in a more persistent manner. Simmons wants to scream, wants to beat the wall, wants to find Grif.

The screen chokes back into life, but this time without Grif. There are words scrolling across like a teleprompter.

_Hello Dick. Welcome._

“Grif?! There’s words. Someone’s trying to talk to us. Grif?! I can’t see you, be ok, ok? You need to be-”

_Read it. Let him know._

“Ok, Grif, I’m supposed to read it to you… It says, let him know.” The words begin to scroll again, a letter popping up at a time. “ ‘Today, one of you will… die.’ Grif! I’m not ready to die, we can’t die! Oh wait, it’s still, ok, um, ‘You must decide who will drown.’ How are we supposed to choose? You can’t die, I can’t die! I, we, Grif! We have to get- ‘Or both of you will die.’”

 

 _Jesus Fucking Christ._ Grif’s heart stops as the water continues to flow, more and more angrily. Is this it? Years of being together, fighting side by side, well… standing side by side. And one goddamn adventure and they’re going to end up some fucked up Project Freelancer psychology experiment? Years of laughter and conversations about the deeper facets of life, but never about the truth of their own lives.

“Fuck!” He throws a punch upward at the vent, allowing the grate to cut into his fist. “Simmons?!” His mind fills with strangled hope, maybe they can make it up right now. He tries his best to stare into the camera against the tide of water. “Simmons I fucked up. You’re it.” The water stops out of nowhere. “Woah, Simmons did you fix it?” Grif smiles wide until Simmons' voice cuts back in.

“Grif? Make sure Kai gets her GED, ok? She’s,” Simmons voice is muffled by the sounds of splashing. “I’m sorry we wasted,” Simmons voice chokes out.

A wall gives way and Grif tumbles out in a small wave of water. The room is entirely dark beside his confinement cell glowing white from the inside but black on the outside. He follows the length of pipe that juts out from the box. About ten feet away, the pipe enters a similar cell made of glass. Inside is the pale form of a man, floating in water. The red strands of hair float away from his face as a slow line of bubbles escape his mouth. His eyes are shut tight.

“Simmons!” Grif runs to the box, beating on the walls. “I’ll get you out! I’ll get you out!” Simmons eyes shoot open, he smiles and places a hand on the glass wall. Grif kicks the glass to no avail. Simmons’ lips move in unfamiliar shapes. _I love you._ Grif stops kicking.

Simmons breathes out the last dredges of oxygen and the veins in his neck stand out until they don’t. Simmons’ hand floats away from the glass, glowing an unearthly white. Grif falls to his knees. “You’re it. You were the reason I was here.”

**Author's Note:**

> Grif had someone to go home to. Simmons, well, Simmons had Grif. And if Grif was gone, what was the point of being alive anyway?


End file.
